


every time you do that (you make me feel it)

by turbrolence (shortiest)



Category: GOT7
Genre: M/M, Prompt Fill, also likes biting, jinyoung is Petty, mark is a Shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 16:53:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8454337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shortiest/pseuds/turbrolence
Summary: in which jinyoung is a slut for french roast beans and mark is a thief who answers the door in his red boxers.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [byuubaekhyun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/byuubaekhyun/gifts).



> c AN YOU TELL BY THE SUMMARY THAT THIS IS GOING TO BE A MESS BC WOW ARE U B OYS NOT READY
> 
> based on the prompt that was given to me:  
> 'our flats are opposite each other and your kitchen window faces my kitchen so we always see each other making coffee at 3am' au
> 
> mariam this is all for u i hate you whatta mess bye im gonna fling myself into the sun
> 
> [title from my home,, bc i still don't love myself]
> 
>  
> 
> ps: what is a coherent storyline what is proper story progression
> 
>  
> 
> !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
> to the french!!! this fic has been translated to french!!! by a beautiful person (dentifrite) pls go [read](https://www.fanfic-fr.net/fanfics/Musique/G/GOT7/Everytime-you-do-that--you-make-me-feel-it-/84133/387675.html) bless

three one-thousand-word papers, two redbulls and a granola bar later, a partially-decomposing jinyoung practically crawls into his kitchen, dragging his limbs and heavy bones over to the counter and incoherently putting together another pot of coffee, the slow bubbling of his coffee-maker making him slightly more lucid. he squints at the numbers displayed on the small clock they have situated on top of their microwave, the numbers ‘3:19’ blaring loudly in bright red. he leans his body against the sink with a heavy groan, lifting his head slightly to find a blond head fussing around in the kitchen opposite to his apartment.

 _seems like blondie had the same thought_ , jinyoung muses, managing a small smirk and a light chuckle at the sight of the latter flitting through his cabinets, reaching into the topmost shelf to grab a new bag of coffee, shirt riding up and exposing his waist. jinyoung finds himself level-headed enough to turn his head away at the glimpse of skin.

blondie’s a recent addition to his three-a.m. kitchen adventures, the latter having only moved into the apartment in the complex opposite to jinyoung’s a few weeks or so ago. the boy seems to have the exact same sleep schedule as jinyoung- which is to say, neither of them have a coherent one- so he’s been seeing a lot of the blond from his spot by the kitchen window. blondie cooks, though, which means he’s at a higher level than jinyoung when it comes to culinary skills, but seeing him stagger into his kitchen and fumble with his coffee machine in the haste to get caffeine into his system at three-a.m., jinyoung finds himself feeling eons better about his culinary-inept self.

it's somewhat odd but jinyoung finds himself looking forward to catching a glimpse of the other at three-a.m., looks forward to catching a glimpse of the latter running a tired hand through his hair and sighing, eyes scrunched tight in exhaustion and lips curled into a small frown, or the latter dancing lightly to whatever music was flowing through his kitchen as he flips the wok and makes stir-fry.

jinyoung watches as he pours water into the reservoir before placing the carafe back on the heating plate, watches the blond let out a jaw-splitting yawn as he measures his coffee grounds. he finds it all surprisingly endearing, the blond’s hair sticking up in odd places and his shirt askew on his shoulder, a small grin spreading through his lips at the scene.

he startles, however, when the blond raises his head and meets jinyoung’s gaze, eyes widening marginally when he realizes jinyoung’s been there the entire time, and wow, does jinyoung feel like a complete creep. his coffee-maker makes a clicking noise, signalling the completion of his coffee and bringing him back to the present, away from the mental berating he’s making himself go through. he pours himself a mug, raising it up to his lips and attempting to discreetly sneak a last glance at the blond from above the rim of his cup.

the sight that greets him makes him almost choke on the scalding coffee.

the blond’s perched on top of his sink, one hand on the marble to keep himself steady, the other raised in the air and waving slightly at jinyoung. the small smile on the blond’s face makes jinyoung’s cheeks color and he’s glad that he has the mug to conceal it. he swivels around and stalks out of his kitchen, dragging himself back to his room and to his study desk, boring holes into the pages of his book. the sight of crescent-shaped eyes blocks the words floating around the page and jinyoung sits back, slamming the book shut and taking a rough sip of his coffee, glaring at nothing in particular.

well, it’s not like he wasn’t already failing his tests.

if it’s blondie, jinyoung decides he’d gladly be distracted- wouldn't be the first time, really.

 

 

a hand stops him from pouring redbull into his large mug of pure black coffee. jinyoung hisses menacingly at the intrusion.

“jinyoung, no more caffeine,” youngjae tsks, clutching at the hem of his hoodie and dragging him away from the only thing that might restore some of his sanity. he struggles in the younger’s grasp, attempting to make his way back to his mug of potential death. “jesus christ, go sit down in the living room while i make some ramen for you.”

he shoves jinyoung out of the kitchen, barring the entrance with starfish-ed limbs when he attempts to slink back inside and jinyoung whines as he reluctantly follows youngjae’s order, throwing himself onto the couch with a loud cry. from the adjacent loveseat, jaebum lets out a taunting snort and jinyoung slowly turns his head to shoot him an icy glare.

“you know, it’s always amusing to see you slowly disintegrate into this empty shell of a person at hours past midnight.” jaebum’s shoulders shake slightly with laughter as he mocks jinyoung’s weak state.

“you don’t even live here,” jinyoung sneers at him, subtly feeling around him for a throw pillow, lobbing one straight at jaebum’s face when his hands come across the cushion. “literally get out of our apartment.”

the pillow accurately claps jinyoung’s intended target, hitting jaebum smackdab in the face and knocking his glasses off. it’s jinyoung’s turn to double over in laughter at the exasperated expression on jaebum’s face. the latter peels the pillow off his face, rolling his eyes at jinyoung. “i don’t know if you remember, but my boyfriend- you remember youngjae, right?- yeah, he lives here, too. therefore, it’s perfectly okay for me to be in this apartment- because youngjae wants me to be here.”

and jinyoung doesn’t really have anything to say in rebuttal, so he settles for lying back down and throwing a hand over his eyes, pressing down hard and watching the phosphenes dance behind his eyelids. he feels queasy, sleep-deprived and horribly exhausted, but he doesn’t have the luxury to sleep nor does he have the luxury to consume proper meals with the way his study schedule is set so it's naps at the library and granola bars until the end of midterms.

“i think...i can feel colors, now,” jinyoung mutters to no one in particular.

“maybe if you actually slept properly and consumed food that isn't a granola bar or dry cereal- no, jinyoung, caffeine is not food, it’s a stimulant- maybe, just maybe, you would be in proper shape,” youngjae chides as he walks back into the living room, a pot of steaming ramen in his mitten-clad hands. he places the pot on the coffee table before setting a pair of chopsticks down. “food. eat,” he orders jinyoung, giving him a hard glare until jinyoung pulls himself up into a sitting position to satiate him. the expression of delight on his face when jinyoung inhales his first mouthful is motherly and fond and jinyoung’s stomach gives in, finishing the entire pot with a light heart.

he leans back, patting a bloated stomach and giving youngjae a small frown. “youngjae, i ate too much- i’m gonna end up regurgitating this entire pot back out by tomorrow morning, you know that.”

in the corner of his eye, he sees jaebum wince. “please, please- for the love of god- do not talk about regurgitating or vomiting. i was walking home with jackson yesterday after the party at namjoon’s house and i watched him puke on someone’s lawn. mark and i had to practically peel him off the pavement.”

“i reiterate my previous sentence- i’m going to puke in the next two seconds,” jinyoung deadpans.

youngjae turns around from his seat on the floor next to jaebum’s knees to give the older one a curious look, eyebrows furrowed but lips set in an amused smile. “how did you manage to get mark to leave their apartment? how hard did you have to work to peel mark away from his bed and his console?”

jaebum laughs, “jackson threatened him by saying that he’d get me to breakdance all over his acer predator and that he’d dropkick mark into the next year. but honestly, if you ask me, i think mark just came out of the apartment to get jackson to stop talking- god knows that’s what i would have done.”

jinyoung supposes this would have been a hilarious conversation to overhear- judging by the loud series of laughs that youngjae lets out- but he doesn’t know a mark and therefore feels just a little bit left out. so he raises his head to shoot youngjae a quizzical look.

“mark who?”

“mark tuan? skinny blond with a really small face- moved into the apartment in the complex right next door along with jackson and mook. he’s an art major.” jaebum informs him, all the while with his head tilted to the side and eyebrows furrowed. “weren’t you there when we took him around campus about a month ago when he first arrived?” jinyoung tries to think back to the last time he’d left the apartment, but comes up real short. he gives jaebum a shake of his head, the latter sighing before muttering, “honestly, why am i even asking- you haven’t been anywhere except for the literature lecture hall, the library, the kitchen or your room.” jinyoung can’t help think that jaebum knows him so well.

he makes to answer to jaebum’s bait but his mind catches on one small information. “hold on, did you just say the complex next door?”

“yeah, why?”

“oh, no.”

 

 

 

it’s late- too late- for him to be out and about with a barely-coherent mind state but his veins are lacking their usual fill of caffeine and jinyoung is just that desperate for a drop of coffee. he’d been the very definition of heartbroken when he opened his cupboards this morning and found the bag lacking of any coffee beans. maybe if he was a fully functioning human, then maybe he would have remembered to pop to the store and buy some but as it is, jinyoung has his midterms coming up and his ass is swarmed with poetry and play books. as he pushes the doors open to the coffee shop a few blocks down from their apartment, he breathes in the smell of familiar ground beans and feels his worries shut down. he walks towards the shelves holding his beloved coffee grounds.

his hands are outstretched, fingers so close to the last bag of french roast when a pale, sinewy hand snatches it from the shelf first and jinyoung bounces back faster than the speed of light when their hands touch. his wide eyes follow the line from the fingers wrapped around the bag up to the person’s arm, to their long neck, then to their blond hair. jinyoung’s heart skips a beat when he realizes just why he thought that jawline was all too familiar an angle.

blondie (- _mark tuan_ , jinyoung mentally corrects himself-) doesn’t seem to notice jinyoung’s presence, eyes locked on the phone in his right hand and he makes to walk away, jinyoung’s bag of roast beans in hand. in his coffee-deprived state, he makes one small decision- he grabs at the hem of the boy’s sweater, stopping him in his tracks and preventing him from walking away.

“uh,” jinyoung stutters, “those are my beans.”

jinyoung watches as shock floods through the blond’s eyes before it gets washed over by something that resembles realization and jinyoung suddenly wants to hide. the last encounter they had was with mark waving a hand at him and jinyoung being caught staring at mark tuan making coffee. he hastily releases his hold on mark’s sweater, steps back when mark mutters something low and breathy.

“it’s you.”

he raises a hand to scratch at the nape of his neck, eyes casting downwards and resolutely staring at the wooden floorboards of the shop. “yeah,” jinyoung lets out a strained laugh. “i was hoping you wouldn’t recognize me.”

“it’s hard to forget a face you realize has seen you in your lowest moments,” mark chuckles lightly, “mark at three-a.m. is not a sight to be seen by other people but you've seen me in my worst hours.”

he thinks back to memories of mark with soft-looking ruffled hair, movements sluggish and sloth-like as he fumbles around in his kitchen. he then thinks back to the states mark could have seen him in, hair sticking up in every direction, gait practically like a zombie’s as he crawls into his own kitchen, making coffee with his eyes drooping and then inhaling mug after mug afterwards like a starved man. jinyoung snorts. “what you consider your lowest moment probably doesn’t even amount to half of mine. coffee is the only thing that keeps me sane.”

speaking of coffee-

his eyes drop back down to the bag of french roast beans in mark’s hand, the very last french roast on the shelf.

“also, the bag you’re holding- it was mine first, i touched it first.”

mark raises an eyebrow, glances down at the bag in his hand, then back at jinyoung. he purses his lips, teeth gnawing lightly at the skin before shrugging. “it doesn’t say your name on it. it’s free game.”

jinyoung’s mind comes to a staggering halt. is he a fucking twelve-year-old? it’s the most childish retort he’s ever heard come from someone’s mouth- someone who looks like they’re the same age as jinyoung’s twenty-two- and the urge to grab a stool and lob it at mark suddenly washes over him. he stamps it down with much difficulty, giving the latter a strained smile. he holds his right hand out, makes grabbing motions towards the bag.

“i was here first. so, hand it over,” he grits his teeth, eyes narrowing at the smirk mark lets out.

“i don't think so.”

jinyoung splutters, gapes at the look in mark’s eyes. the urge to throw a stool at the blond resurfaces once more and his head throbs with the starting pulses of a migraine. he shuts his eyes, places his fingers on his temples and attempts to block out the constant thrum of mark’s amusement flowing around him.

and competition flows thick in jinyoung’s veins, that much is true, but currently his mind is very much irrational, running on only about thirty minutes of sleep (which he acquired during the last half of his last lecture of the day) and jinyoung’s brain isn’t working as well as he wants it to.

so, for the first time in a while, jinyoung concedes.

or at least, he pretends to.

“actually, you know what,” jinyoung sighs, theatrically pinching the bridge of his nose and slowly counting to ten under his breath, “have the french roast. it’s fine.” he keeps his eyes shut and pretends his own words don’t deliver a weak blow to his pride.

what he expects is a ‘ _no, it’s okay, you can have it_ ’ or an ‘ _i’m sorry for taking your precious french roast from your grasp, please let me offer it back to you as a sign of my apology_ ’.

what he doesn’t expect is the small beat of silence before mark chirps, “thanks, man. i appreciate it.”

the blond gives jinyoung a wide grin, shaking the bag of french roasts almost mockingly in jinyoung’s face. jinyoung faces another round of mental disintegration and his mouth once again drops into a big circle, ears unbelieving of the blond’s audacity. (-and okay, maybe it’s his fault for bluffing but really, mark should have gotten the hint.)

“well, this wasn’t the reality i wanted,” he mutters to himself.

mark gives him another smile- wide lipped and too bright for jinyoung’s irritation- before walking away, leaving jinyoung standing by the shelves bereft of any more bags of french roasts and he exhales carefully. he turns to the shelves, sadly musing the few available choices he has before selecting a bag of regular roasts with a heavy heart. he heads over to the counter to pay, queueing up behind mark with jinyoung’s bag of french roasts by the cashier in front of him.

“roast thief,” jinyoung mumbles, definitely loud enough for mark’s ears to catch.

it proves right when the latter turns around to shoot him a smirk as he hands over his card. “you know, if you really want to have your french roasts,” mark says with a wide grin sitting on his lips, leaning his body against the counter and giving jinyoung all of his attention. “you could always come over. i’ve been told that i make excellent coffee.”

“like hell i’d do that, blondie.”

 

 

 

jinyoung gags when he takes his first sip of regular roast coffee, immediately letting it go down his throat instead of settling on his tastebuds. he glares menacingly at the unsatisfying liquid in his mug before making the decision to let it go the drain, when his eyes catch something through the window. he sees mark perched on his kitchen counter, staring at jinyoung from above the rim of his mug, eyes crinkled and even from his distance, jinyoung can see the amusement shining in them. when he realizes jinyoung has spotted him, he lowers his cup and swallows visibly before giving jinyoung a wide grin and a wave of his empty hand, head cocked to the side.

 _the audacity of this boy_ , jinyoung grits his teeth, blood simmering to a boil. he raises his own cup to his lips, takes a long sip, stamping down the urge to spit it back out- all to show mark that no, he’s not backing down from this.

flipping mark off with his free hand, he sets his mug down with an angry thump before swiveling around and stalking out of the kitchen. he heads to youngjae’s room.

“jae, i need you to go out and buy me some french roast grounds. this bag of regular roasts is going to make me puke all over your precious succulent plants.”

youngjae looks up from his position by the headboard of his bed and raises a curious eyebrow. “and why can’t you do it yourself?”

jinyoung jumps and lands in the middle of the mattress, the scent of youngjae’s sheets invading his nose. “your sheets smell like jaebum’s cologne, how disgusting.” he turns his head to the side and gives the younger a sigh. “i can’t go out and get it myself because there’s the possibility of him seeing me on my way to buy it and that would be admitting defeat.”

“and who’s ‘him’?” youngjae asks, pushing his laptop off his lap to cross his arms and give jinyoung an expectant look on his face. “are you seeing someone without my knowledge? i can’t believe there’s a man in your life and you’re not telling me, your best friend, about it.”

jinyoung grumbles, “i’m not seeing anyone. ‘him’ is mark tuan. we’re in the middle of a roast war.”

“like verbal roasting?”

“no, like ‘coffee bean roasts’ kind of roast war,” jinyoung says and the look that passes over youngjae’s face almost makes him laugh but as it so happens, he’s caffeine-deprived and in absolute despair over his regular coffee.

youngjae sighs, “see, i normally don’t understand the words that come out of your mouth but today you are just reaching new heights.” he pats jinyoung’s head consolingly. “explain again- and in simpler vocabulary.”

“i forgot to buy coffee grounds because i’ve been really busy with literature, so i went to the shop down the block to buy some french roasts but there was only one on the shelf, and mark tuan- bane of my existence- decided to steal it off the shelf,” jinyoung explains, closing his eyes and stifling the anger he feels rising. “i was there first, i got to the bag first but his thieving hands decided to do me over. now, he’s mocking me from his window by drinking his coffee- my french roast- with that big smile on his face, knowing that i have ugly regular roasted grounds in my possession. honestly, he’s a menace and i want to get rid of him.”

he expects a ‘ _yes, hyung, you were wronged by mark tuan_ ’ or more preferably, a ‘ _yes, hyung, i’ll get you some french roasts'_.

what he doesn’t expect is a loud groan from youngjae, followed by, “jesus, park jinyoung, you’re acting like a twelve-year-old.”

jinyoung splutters, rising up to smack youngjae on the shoulder and make small offended noises. “i am not.”

“yes, you are,” youngjae insists through more of jinyoung’s affronted gasping. “just go out and buy your own goddamn french roast beans if you want them, but don’t think i’m going to help you act like a small child and ignore your responsibilities as a grown adult- all because of a boy who took the last bag of coffee grounds.”

jinyoung whines.

“but they were french roast, youngjae.”

 

 

 

four days.

the last time jinyoung had french roast grounds was four days ago and the three-in-one coffee packs are just not doing it- not that they ever have done it for him, really. he’s given up on his regular roast, decided that drinking regular roast coffee was also admitting defeat to mark tuan. so he’s pushed the bag of sadly-roasted beans to the very back of their shelves and instead opted for youngjae’s three-in-one coffee stack.

and jinyoung’s a rational person, not one to achieve new levels of pettiness because of a boy he rarely knows and is mostly acquainted to through their kitchen windows, but jinyoung is also a prideful person, an ego too big and too strong for his own good, sometimes. so, he goes on a strike, attempts to console himself by piling up stack upon stack of hateful remarks about mark tuan in the back burner of his brain.

it’s also been a couple of days- by ‘a couple’, jinyoung means two days and about fourteen hours- since he’s seen mark. jinyoung’s been making a point to avoid the window by the sink, pointedly keeping his eyes on his mug whenever he makes his coffee at three-a.m. it’s a cowardly move, he’s aware- youngjae’s told him a handful of times when he sees jinyoung keeping the lights in the kitchen dim and low to avoid the possibility of mark seeing him make shameful three-in-one coffee, but it’s a working defense mechanism.

on the fifth day of being french-roast-deprived, however, jinyoung finds his eyes straying towards the window when he walks into the kitchen to make morning toast on a saturday morning. what he sees makes him drop his fork with a loud clatter. there’s a large scrap of paper stuck to the glass of mark’s window, shaky writing in black marker. jinyoung steps closer to his window, narrowing his eyes to be able to see better. he stumbles backwards, body slamming against the fridge with a somewhat disgruntled gasp when he fully intakes what the paper reads.

_‘my offer still stands’_

_the audacity._

he forces himself to walk out of the kitchen with as much coherence as he can possibly inject into his veins, tripping over his own feet in his haste to make it to the living room. flinging himself onto the couch, jinyoung lets out a loud scream, thoughts running through his head faster than he can process them.

“ladies and gentlemen, if you look to your left,” jaebum’s voice sounds, “you will be able to witness park jinyoung in his natural state of distress and instability.” he hears the sound of the front door closing, then the older's footsteps advancing towards him. “what’s up with you today?”

“i’m in a dilemma,” he mumbles into the couch cushions.

jaebum snorts. “be honest and tell me- when are you _not_ in a dilemma?”

“you’re the worst person to talk to- literally get away from me.”

“on any other occasion, i’d love to, but alas, i’m curious now.” he hears rather than sees jaebum’s somewhat mocking smirk. “so come on, lay it on me.”

“mark tuan,” is all jinyoung manages to get out from beneath his teeth, eyes squeezing shut as he remembers each and every single detail of the note still attached to mark’s window.

the look on mark’s face as he tells jinyoung ‘ _if you want to have your french roasts, you could always come over’_ reverberates in the confines of his skull and he wants to slam his head against a wall in attempts of getting rid of the images of mark tuan swimming around his brain. he’s positive it’s going to haunt him in his dreams, but mark tuan haunting his dreams is not an oddity at this point in life. though he’d very much like to ignore the blond’s existence, his subconscious disagrees wholeheartedly.

“is this about the note he taped to their kitchen window? because if it is, you're a little late. it's been there since yesterday.”

jinyoung groans.

“so, it is about that. ah, the great coffee war,” jaebum hums knowingly. “youngjae’s told me all about your petty little fight. i have to say, i expected behaviour like this from mark but never from you. though, i suppose he’s in a better state than you are- smiling and grinning whenever we ask about the fight between you two.” jaebum gives him a shrug that looks too filled with feigned innocence and jinyoung wants to strangle him. “don’t know what that’s about, though.”

it’s the last straw for jinyoung, all the pettiness he’s been building up these past few days tumbling down. the speed at which he stands and changes into a new sweatshirt causes jaebum to let out a loud laugh, mind catching onto the motive behind jinyoung’s actions.

“jinyoung.”

“what?” he pockets his phone and his spare keys before heading to the foyer to slip his feet into a pair of sneakers. “not now, i’ve gotta go somewhere. i’ll be back whenever, i guess-”

“-jinyoung,” jaebum calls out once more.

“christ, jaebum- what?”

jaebum gives him a wide grin, eyes crinkling at the corners. “third floor, apartment three-b.”

jinyoung gives him a hesitant nod before slipping out the door, riding the elevator downstairs and sprinting out his complex to head to the one next door. his heartbeat sounds too loud in the silence of his mind and jinyoung curses mark tuan’s name and ancestry with each floor the elevator climbs, grimacing when the sound of the ding reverberates loudly in the empty elevator. he tentatively steps out, his footsteps heavy as he manoeuvers his way around the maze of corridors.

jinyoung stands outside mark’s door for quite a long period of time, meditating on his life choices in the cold hallway of the complex, staring at the small metal plate above the peephole that reads ‘three-b’. he has a hand raised in the air, poised to knock, with his other hand clutching at the short hairs on the nape of his neck, pulling and scratching in frustration.

what does he even say to mark if he just so happens to abruptly open his front door to find jinyoung just lurking outside his apartment and muttering to himself?

' _you promised me french roast_ ’?

‘ _i saw the obnoxious and- only slightly- suggestive sign taped to your kitchen window after having avoided looking in that direction for about three days and have now finally come to redeem my beans_ ’?

he slams his head against the strip of wall next to the wooden doorframe, gripping at the cold concrete to gather himself, mumbling encouragements under his breath before making the decision to ring the doorbell. there’s a long beat of silence- one that almost makes jinyoung turn around and sprint back to the elevator- before the sound of hurried footsteps making their way closer to the door. jinyoung lifts his head off the wall when the door is flung open and mark is standing there, arms cradling a ball of sopping, white fur and only clad in red boxers.

jinyoung’s nerve ends short circuit, eyes scrunching shut to get rid of the images of pale skin flashing behind his eyelids. “well, this wasn’t the reality i wanted,” he grimaces, placing his palms above his eyes. “please clothe yourself.”

he hears mark apologize, “sorry, i was giving my dog a bath when you rang the doorbell- coco, no- come back here-”

there’s the sound of something scurrying away from the doorway and further into the apartment and jinyoung opens his eyes a peek to see the ball of white fur swerving into a room. mark looks back at him with an apologetic smile. “let me just take care of her and then i’ll be back- feel free to sit in the kitchen and have a cup.”

he watches mark sprint back into the apartment, chasing after his dog and leaving jinyoung by the doorway, confused and dazed. he hesitantly steps forward into the foyer, shutting the door behind him with a light push, before toeing his shoes off and placing them to the side, next to the numerous other sneakers lining the floor. he pads around the apartment, the scent of brewed coffee and bacon leading him to the kitchen. the familiar fragrance of french roasts assaults his nose and jinyoung almost tears up as he pours himself a cup, perching himself on top of the kitchen counter. the sound of mark cooing at his dog makes the corners of jinyoung’s lips rise up, hiding it by taking a sip of the scalding coffee.

the sound of footsteps sounds from the entryway of the kitchen, jinyoung tearing his eyes away from the obstructed kitchen window to lock gazes. mark’s thankfully clothed now, clad in a light shirt and grey sweats, grinning at jinyoung.

“i’ve been wondering when you’d come over,” he confesses, leaning against the doorframe, eyes half-crescents and completely focused on jinyoung and jinyoung only. “guess you missed me sooner than i thought you would.”

jinyoung rolls his eyes before pointedly taking a sip from the mug in his hands. “i’m only here of the french roast, blondie,” he grumbles, “don’t get too ahead of yourself.”

“sure, jinyoung,” mark drawls.

“how’d you know my name?” jinyoung asks, narrowing his eyes into sharp slits.

“you forget that i’m friends with jaebum,” the blond’s smile turns teasing and jinyoung wants to throw the mug in his hand at mark’s head. “he’s been telling me snippets of things that you’ve been telling him- just small pieces of useful information.”

_im jaebum, you fucking traitor._

jinyoung grits his teeth, promises himself that he’ll take care of the snitch as soon as he steps foot out of mark’s apartment. “and what has he told you?”

mark crosses his arms, head cocking to the side in a gesture that jinyoung can only interpret as taunting. “that you’re a stubborn shit who refused to go out and buy coffee, fearing the possibility of me coming across you and losing a fight i didn’t even know we started.”

jinyoung sniffs. “you started it when you took my french roast.”

“i didn’t take it from you, i grabbed it off the shelf- it was open for anyone’s taking!-”

"they were mine!"

"no, they weren't!"

“but i was there first,” jinyoung argues, hopping off the counter and setting his mug down, stalking over to mark and slightly looming over him. “i stepped foot in that café before you did. that bag was mine, mark tuan. you started it- not me.”

"you're getting on my nerves."

jinyoung snorts. "a position i'm glad to be in."

mark’s narrowing his eyes at jinyoung now, the warm crescents no longer there, replaced with something sharper and more cryptic. the shift in the air is tangible and jinyoung can almost taste it on the tip of his tongue, the tension thick is palpable as he watches mark slowly unfurl his arms folded across his chest, running a hand through his hair and exhaling slowly through his parted lips. with how close jinyoung is, mark’s breath washes over his collarbones and goosebumps rise where the air touched.

it’s the subtlest changes, mark’s lips parting and his eyelashes fluttering lightly and he looks softer, more unguarded. there’s a long stretch of silence before mark’s low mumble of, “hey, jinyoung?”

jinyoung doesn’t answer, merely keeps his eyes on mark and watches his expression change from exasperation to something that resembles frank curiosity.

“i have another offer,” mark whispers, rising up to his tiptoes and stepping closer to jinyoung and getting up in his space. “care to take it up?”

“you infuriate me,” is what jinyoung replies with, tone subdued and only audible enough for mark’s ears.

mark smirks, hand snaking up to curl around the nape of jinyoung’s neck, pulling him closer so that they’re nose-to-nose. “so, is that a yes?”

“like hell, blondie,” jinyoung teases, head tilting to the side so their noses aren’t bumping and his lips have a clear pass. he surges forward slightly, placing a light kiss on mark’s lips, pulling away faster than mark can respond. the latter keens lightly against his mouth.

“i’ll take that as a definite yes.”

 

 

 

 

 

he wakes up to a heavy weight on the small of his bare back and something soft fluttering around his neck. the soft touch nuzzles against his ears, warm air fleeting over his temple.

“stop that,” he whines weakly, turning to press his face deeper into his pillow. “tickles.”

“wake up.”

“god, no. i just fell asleep.”

he hears mark laugh, gravelly, still sleep-laced and heavy with something jinyoung's too dazed to even decipher. “we’ve been asleep for hours and i’m starving- we slept through lunch and dinner.” he hears mark huff when he doesn’t move a single muscle, slumping against jinyoung and pressing his entire upper body against his back. “jinyoung, come on, i’ll make the food, just get out of bed and eat it with me.”

jinyoung finally relents when mark leans down to give him a sharp bite on the shoulder, teeth digging into his skin and making him yelp in pain. he rolls over, mark transferring to his front and the latter’s head landing in between the crook of his neck. jinyoung raises a hand to drowsily comb through the blond strands, sifting through the soft hairs as mark lets out a small hum of contentment, nestling further into jinyoung’s hold.

“is this you distracting me from getting you out of bed?” mark asks, voice muffled against jinyoung’s skin.

“maybe,” he hums, other hand wrapping around mark’s waist, completely caging the blond in his embrace, and drawing absent-minded circles on his naked torso. “what time is it?” he asks, coughing lightly to get rid of the coarse texture scratching at the back of his throat.

“a little after one o’clock.”

“p.m.?”

mark chuckles. “no, one a.m. i told you we slept through lunch and dinner. it’s why i’m extremely hungry. i could eat an entire cow right now- i could eat you up, too. in just one bite.” he turns his head and jinyoung feels his sharp teeth graze the side of his jaw, placing small kisses on the underside to soothe the small pinpricks of pain and trailing up to jinyoung’s lips to give him soft pecks.

“but you’re too pretty for me to do that," mark whispers, low and carnal. jinyoung lets out a soft snort and ignores the soft warmth building up low in his belly, and lets mark trail his sharp canines around his neck.

“come on. out of bed, please?” he places a small peck on jinyoung’s cupid’s bow, fingers coming up to pry jinyoung’s eyelids open. jinyoung swats his hands away from his face. "i didn't expect you to be the sloth type, jinyoung. out of my bed, now."

“if anything, what you’re doing is going to have both of us stay in bed longer,” he drawls, capturing mark’s lips and giving him a deep kiss, lips moving languidly against his. it’s nothing like last night’s- or afternoon’s, really- kisses, this one too soft and too unlike the rushed, sloppy open-mouthed ones they shared before, but jinyoung decides this one is what he likes more, the unhurried tranquility. his breathing calms and slows, mark nipping lightly on the skin of his bottom lip and he pulls away to duck his head and place a few pecks on the expanse of mark’s collarbones.

the moment is ruined, however, by the sound of growling. mark’s stomach.

jinyoung laughs, pushing at mark’s shoulder so he’s lying on the bed with jinyoung towering over his body, ears turning red with embarrassment as jinyoung laughs louder.

“i told you i was hungry,” mark whines.

“alright, alright,” jinyoung concedes, getting out of bed and grabbing discarded underwear from the floor of mark’s room, slipping his on before throwing mark’s at his face. he locates his shirt with a little difficulty, quickly pulling it on before grabbing mark’s hand and dragging him out of the bedroom. “come on, i’ll make us coffee while you make food.”

they’re met with the sight of two people sitting on the dinner table, a box of pizza laid out between them as they talk in hushed whispers and jinyoung feels like he’s intruding. mark gives the two a tired wave, the latter reciprocating with wide grins, completely unperturbed to see mark clad in only boxers, their smiles widening even more when their eyes land on jinyoung.

“jinyoung,” one of them says, nodding his head in greeting, black hair flopping as his head moves up and down.

jinyoung cocks his head to the side, confused but nevertheless returning the greeting with a nod of his own. “i’m afraid, i don’t know you, but yes, hello.”

the raven-haired boy smirks. “oh, but i know you. i’m pretty sure the neighbors do, too.”

he colors, looking helplessly at mark, only to find the blond with his head bowed low and ears flaming red. mark pointedly clangs pans around noisily, ignoring the amused look the two boys shoot him. jinyoung quietly makes his way toward the blond, sidling up next to him and leaning against the counter as mark prepares something quick for them to munch on.

“yugyeom, where’s coco?”

“in jack’s room,” the black-haired one- yugyeom- answers. “in your state of preoccupation, it seems you thoroughly forgot about your own daughter. mark tuan, what an irresponsible father.”

mark tsks and briefly turns around to shoot yugyeom a cold glare, before returning to his stir-fry. jinyoung shuffles around the cupboard before his hands come in contact with the bag of french roast, taking it out and getting started on making coffee for the two of them, following mark’s lead and ignoring the teasing murmurs coming from yugyeom and bambam- jinyoung’s positive it’s bambam. he’s heard that yugyeom never goes anywhere without him.

“baby, yes sugar or no sugar?” jinyoung mumbles absentmindedly as he flips the switch, the coffee maker humming as it brews slowly.

“‘baby’?” bambam smirks and jinyoung mentally berates himself for letting the endearment slip through his lips.

jinyoung feels mark come closer to him, leaning over to whisper, “no sugar- thanks, babe,” in his ear, too quiet for the two outsiders still lounged at the dining table. he smiles to himself and perches himself on the counter as he waits for their coffee to be done. jinyoung looks up to mark handing him a plate of fried noodles, turning around to grab one for himself, settling in between jinyoung’s open legs when he does.

“you guys are already so disgustingly domestic,” yugyeom notes, distaste clear as day on his face, “this is the first time i’m seeing jinyoung step foot into this kitchen and he’s already touched more kitchen appliances than bambam has- and bambam lives here.”

mark rolls his eyes. “that’s because mook’s a fire hazard.”

“and this stranger here isn’t?” bambam’s voice is affronted and jinyoung bites his lip to stop himself from bursting into laughter.

“jinyoung’s not a stranger,” mark refutes, placing his already-empty- maybe jinyoung underestimated just how hungry he was- plate down onto the counter and crossing his arms, leaning his elbows on top of jinyoung's knees. “far from it.”

yugyeom lets out a theatrical sigh, standing up from the dining table and throwing the empty pizza box into the bin. “jinyoung touches his ass once and he’s no longer a stranger to him but we’ve been friends with him for years and he still refuses to acknowledge us in public places.” he gives mark a mock look of disappointment. “they change so fast.”

bambam exits the room faster than mark can lob a spatula at him but yugyeom isn’t as fortunate, the wooden utensil hitting him smack dab in the chest, mark grinning in triumph. yugyeom rubs his chest as he slinks out of the kitchen, shooting mark looks of something that looks like betrayal as he whines about the pain. the house quiets as soon as the door to bambam’s bedroom shuts and it’s just mark and jinyoung again.

it’s quiet for a while before, “your little note is still attached to your window.”

mark turns in jinyoung hold to peek at the window behind him, sees the big, white parchment still blocking the view of jinyoung’s kitchen. “don’t want to take it down, really- can be a sort of booty call.”

jinyoung snorts. “that’s one lame-ass booty call. no matter how thirsty i was, i would never go to someone whose offer to have sex was written on paper.”

“and, yet, you came to me,” mark smirks.

“i came here for french roast beans, mark tuan, not for your ass,” he sniffs, leaning down to place his forehead against the blond’s, brushing his lips against the latter's. “don’t flatter yourself too much.”

“ah, seems like i was mistaken.”

“quite.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> i don't even ship markjin that much this was all for mariam u shithead mariam love me and unblock me thanks babi ilysm
> 
> find me on tumblrs [here](http://suga-mon.tumblr.com) or [here (my got7)](http://turbrolence.tumblr.com/) block me there yes


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